The alarm sounds its shrill blast,
interrupting an intoxicating dream.
Morning light floods in and quickly burns away
the fragile wisps of thought.
You roll over, vainly hoping that
a few more moments
will return the dream that floats
just beyond consciousness.
Lying there, you realize the futility
of your efforts, and instead
turn your thoughts to the present.
Eyes closed, you sink back down
into the soft sea of nothingness
and listen as the house outside your room
slowly yawns and stretches to life, not unlike
eternal mountains awaking to a cool, dewy morning.
As a warm, rich, almost tangible scent drifts under your door,
the hiss of this ancient morning ritual is heard
momentarily, before becoming drowned out by the sound
of thousands of glistening soldiers marching down, down
into the battered and scarred porcelain that rests
in the room just behind your bed.
With a sigh, you slowly rise,
alone,
momentarily adrift in a boat of sweet solitude,
before plunging your feet to the cold, wooden floor
to begin another day.
